


Delicious Like Pancakes

by kankrisredsweater



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Fluff, M/M, Oops, PWP, Shameless Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-17
Updated: 2013-06-17
Packaged: 2017-12-15 06:28:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/846368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kankrisredsweater/pseuds/kankrisredsweater
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Egbert!" He called. "Did you take my towels?"<br/>"Haha, what towels?" came John's voice, a little too singsongy to be innocent.<br/>~<br/><em>In which a harmless prank leads to an unexpected surprise for both the victim and the prankster.</em></p>
            </blockquote>





	Delicious Like Pancakes

Dave Strider hated mornings.

He rolled over to squint through sleep-clouded eyes at the beeping alarm clock. Harsh red numbers glowed in the pitch-darkness, declaring the time to be six in the morning. Dave groaned and allowed himself a few more moments of lying in his warm bed before sitting up and pushing the blankets off. He swung his legs over the side of the bed and rose to his feet, still groggy from sleep. He stumbled into the bathroom, flicking the lightswitch out of habit and yelping “Fuck!” as the fluorescent bulbs glared into his eyes. He tapped the lights off again, rubbing his eyes with one hand and fumbling around for the dimmer switch with the other. Once his fingers found the knob, he adjusted the lights in the bathroom until they were just the right brightness for his maladjusted eyes. He wished he’d remembered to pull on his shades before he’d gotten out of bed.

He regarded his messy appearance in the mirror. His blond hair was disheveled from sleep and he had crease marks up his cheeks from the pillow. The door he’d come in stood ajar, whereas the door right next to that one remained closed. That door led to his roommate’s bedroom, and Dave was pretty sure he was still asleep.

Dave stripped off the dark red t-shirt he’d worn to bed and threw it haphazardly on the bathroom floor. His pajama pants and boxers soon joined the discarded shirt. Dave climbed into the shower and pulled the curtain closed before turning on the faucet. He braced himself for the momentary cold water, and after the initial shock, he felt the spray warm gradually until it was almost too hot for him to touch. Dave preferred his showers scalding.

The water ran rivulets down his shoulders and back, and Dave just stood there for a few moments, relishing the steaming water. He groped around for his shampoo, a high-end brand that smelled of mango and kiwi. His sister made fun of him for it occasionally, but Dave didn’t mind. Striders took great pride in their hair. Plus, it smelled awesome. Dave was lathering it into his hair when he heard a knock at the door.

“Hey, Dave, are you decent?” came a voice from the other side. It took Dave a moment to remember that he now shared a bathroom. This would have bothered Dave much more had his roommate not been his very best friend since middle school, John Egbert.

“Well I’m in the shower, so do the math,” Dave called back.

John chuckled, and Dave heard the door open. “Mind if I brush my teeth?”

“Only if you go make breakfast when you’re done,” Dave responded, aware of his grumbling stomach. Living with John was great. They had attended the same college and gotten a small apartment a few blocks from campus, and it had turned out that they were fantastic roommates. John had a knack for cooking, so the fridge was almost always full of stuff that wasn’t boxed or microwavable, and Dave’s innate need to organize had led to an almost spotless apartment, even three months into the semester. 

John finished brushing his teeth. “How do pancakes sound?” He asked.

“Delicious,” Dave responded, and he heard John leave. The door shut rather harshly behind him. Dave thought nothing more of it until he turned off the shower. Now almost fully awake, he reached a hand around the curtain and groped for the towel bar.

His hand encountered only damp metal.

Dave poked his head around the curtain. He could have sworn that his large, fluffy red towels had been hanging there when he’d gotten into the shower, but nothing hung from the steel rod. Gone too were the hand towels that usually sat stacked in a neat pile in the cabinet above the sink. Dave was completely shocked. 

“Egbert!” He called. “Did you take my towels?”

“Haha, what towels?” came John’s voice, a little too singsongy to be innocent.

“My giant towels. Come on, man, I’m standing here in the shower, dripping wet and stark-ass naked. Little help?”

“Maybe you should come and get ‘em,” John responded, unable to keep the glee from his voice. Dave cursed as he remembered the only downside to living with John: the boy was a prankster.

Dave glanced at the floor. John had taken his pajamas, too. There was nothing he could use to dry off or cover himself with in the small bathroom.

“John, give me a towel or so help me I will use one of your pillowcases,” Dave threatened, jimmying the doorknob in the bathroom that led to John’s bedroom. It didn’t budge.

“Well, it seems I have locked the door to my room, and I’m the only one with the key,” John teased. Damn keys! They’d seemed like such a good idea when they’d moved in!

“Let me guess, that’s where my clothes and towels are, too,” Dave sighed. 

“Ooh, lucky guess,” John laughed.

“You are enjoying yourself way too fuckin’ much for six-thirty in the morning,” Dave complained. 

“Well some of us are morning people,” John countered.

Dave made a frustrated noise. He had a few options here. He could just drip-dry, which didn’t sound too appealing because the air in the bathroom was quite a bit colder than his shower-steamed skin and he was beginning to shiver. He could just use his clothes or bedsheets to dry himself off, but he really didn’t want them to mildew. Alternatively… he could swallow his pride and go fetch his goddamn towels.

“All right, you asked for it, I’m comin’ out,” Dave said, pushing open the bathroom door into his room. He didn’t care that he was still dripping water everywhere. He barged into the small hallway that led to the kitchen, where he found John smirking and stirring a bowl of pancake batter.

“C’mon, dude, what do I have to do to get my towels back?” Dave said, trying not to sound like he was begging. He was already standing wet and naked in the middle of his kitchen, and he didn’t think his dignity could take another hit.

“Well why do you need them right away?” John asked, trying not to laugh. He was clearly enjoying watching Dave squirm with discomfort, eyes sparkling mischievously behind square-framed glasses.

“Egbert, you are being so damn uncooperative,” Dave groaned. “I’m a little cold here, and I’m getting water everywhere, and I’m gonna have to mop all this shit up later.”

“You’re the neat freak, not me,” John said, his smirk becoming even more pronounced.

“Fine then, I guess I’ll just dry myself off on your clothes, see how you like being wet,” Dave challenged, heading straight for John. John barely had time to set the pancake batter onto the counter before Dave pressed his entire body into John’s, moving to wipe off the water droplets onto his shirt and sweatpants. John squeaked and tried to get away, but Dave somehow managed to pin him to a wall. The front of John’s shirt was getting soaked, and he was laughing.

“Dave, no, augh, why you gotta be like that, man, come on, you’re getting me all wet, stop,” John protested as Dave pressed himself against John again. To Dave’s immense surprise, he realized that he could feel a bulge beginning to harden in John’s crotch. John seemed to be just as surprised as he was, a heated blush creeping up over his cheeks. The protestations began to sound a little halfhearted, and Dave realized that both he and John were breathing heavily. He pulled back slightly, and his eyes locked onto John’s large, surprised blue ones. Dave held his gaze for a moment, and suddenly, something inside him snapped.

Dave leaned forward again, his still-damp face burrowing into the crevice of John’s neck. John made a noise in his throat that was a weird cross between a moan and a purr, and something about it made Dave feel strangely tingly. He keened into John’s neck again, and was again greeted by that throaty noise. Dave felt the heat pulsing in his lower stomach, and realized that John was almost completely hard now. Oddly, Dave didn’t seem to mind.

He leaned into John’s neck once more, this time planting a very light kiss just below John’s ear. He shuddered, and Dave took that as an invitation to continue. He trailed kisses along John’s jawline and down to his shoulders, and came to the sudden cloudy realization that John’s hands were bracing themselves on Dave’s bare hips. Dave had been leaning his full weight into the wall behind John, effectively trapping him. Dave pulled back and smirked.

“I think I’ll have my towel now,” he crooned, almost shocked at how deep and primal his voice sounded. Unlike John, he had no clothes to hide that fact that the surprising proximity had had a definite effect on him. John’s eyes flicked downward to Dave’s hips and the corner of his mouth twitched upward. He pulled the key to his room out of his sweatpants pocket. Dave reached for it, but John pulled it back.

“Not so fast,” he breathed, his cheeks flushed. “Can’t have you going through all my stuff and all that.” He jerked his head in a “follow me” motion and ducked beneath one of Dave’s arms. Dave glanced at the clock above the microwave. It read six forty-five in bright green digital numbers. Oh, what the hell, Dave didn’t have class until eight, he could afford to waste a little more time. He followed John down the hallway and leaned against the wall as John unlocked the door directly across from Dave’s own. The door creaked open, and Dave pushed past John into the room. His towels and clothes were folded neatly on top of John’s bed, and Dave grabbed the top one and wrapped it around himself. 

Dave hadn’t realized how cold he’d actually been in the absence of John’s body heat, so it took him a few moments of toweling off to realize that John was leaning against the doorframe, watching casually. Dave wrapped a towel around his hair and mussed it slightly. An idea came to him. He pulled the towel from around his head and held it open towards John. 

“You’re probably all soaked now too,” Dave said, pouting a little for effect. John stiffened slightly and dragged a hand through his messy black hair. The blush was climbing up his cheeks again.

“Let’s get you out of your wet things,” Dave grinned, realizing that he sounded like he was in a seventies porno and not really caring. John peeled his damp shirt off of his chest and approached Dave, letting himself be wrapped in the giant towel. He wasn’t that wet, but Dave began to dry him off anyway, letting his hands reach around to press firmly along John’s arms and chest over the towel. John’s head leaned back slightly. Dave pressed himself into John’s back and leaned forward to place more kisses on John’s exposed neck. Slowly, he let the towel drop from John’s shoulders and to his surprise, John quickly turned to face him. His eyes blazed, and Dave decided not to resist the sudden urge to grab John’s hips and gently push him back onto his bed. 

John’s legs hung off the end of the bed, and he lay back, propped up on his elbows. The look in his eyes was simultaneously shocked and needy, and Dave had no idea why he found this so attractive. The towel lay abandoned on John’s floor as Dave climbed, naked and unashamed, on top of his best friend. He brushed the tip of his nose against John’s own, and their lips hovered centimeters apart before John lifted his head slightly and bridged the distance.

Dave had kissed girls, but this was nothing like that. John’s lips were soft and completely bereft of lip gloss or chapstick. Dave experimentally hooked John’s lower lip between his own and sucked gently; the noise John elicited made Dave’s head spin. He began to tease it with the tip of his tongue, reveling in the small sighs that he coaxed from John’s throat. One of John’s hands found its way into Dave’s still-damp hair, and Dave was surprised at the moan that issued from his own mouth when John tugged lightly at his scalp. His mouth left John’s and traveled along his jawline again, smiling to himself as he felt John shiver beneath him. John had begun to grind weakly into his hip, and Dave was becoming increasingly aware of the thick layer of fabric between them.

Dave propped himself up with one of his arms, freeing the other one to play with the waistband of John’s sweatpants. John whined a little as Dave’s fingers hooked beneath it and tugged downward, and with a little bit of wriggling, the offending garment slid off of John’s legs into a pile at the foot of the bed. Dave slipped a hand up one of the legs of John’s boxers, feeling the heat radiate off of John’s inner thigh. John whimpered. Dave was no longer kissing him, but was sitting back on his heels, straddling John’s slightly parted legs. Dave stroked along the inside of John’s thigh, his stomach flipping as he watched John writhe beneath him. He withdrew his hand and rested it on John’s hip, overcome with a surprising shyness. 

John seemed to sense his hesitation. He smiled weakly before raising his own hand to cover Dave’s. Very gently, he guided Dave’s hand to rest on top of his prominent erection. Slowly, his hand still covering Dave’s, he wrapped Dave’s fingers around it, and began to use Dave’s hand to palm himself through the fabric of his boxers. Dave’s own cock was now completely hard, pulsing each time he pressed his hand into John’s crotch. Dave became aware that he was panting.  
John withdrew his hand from Dave’s and ran it through his thick hair, his eyes closed and his mouth half-open. The sight drove Dave completely over the edge. He slid both hands beneath the waistband of John’s boxers and deftly slid them down his legs. John gasped as Dave wrapped his hand fully around his cock and began stroking with the slightest amount of pressure. Dave tried to ignore the throbbing sensation of his own arousal. The tip of John’s cock was wet with precome, and Dave slid his thumb over the slit to wipe it off. John moaned through gritted teeth.

Gripped with a sudden urge, Dave released his hold on John and brought his thumb up to John’s mouth. He stroked along John’s bottom lip, and almost gasped when John’s lips parted and his tongue darted out to lick the taste of his own desire off of Dave’s thumb. Dave brushed his first two fingers against John’s lips, almost groaning as John began to suck them lightly. John’s tongue brushed against his fingertips, and his hips gave a sudden jolt. He couldn’t stand it anymore.  
Dave withdrew his fingers from John’s mouth and wrapped his hand around his own neglected cock. He shuddered with pleasure, and almost didn’t notice the body shifting beneath him, until he opened his eyes and realized that John was gripping himself in a similar manner, his eyes glued to Dave’s face. 

Dave let go and grabbed John’s wrist, causing him to release himself. Slowly, Dave lowered his hips so that his cock lay astride John’s and began to grind gently into John’s hip. John reciprocated the motion, and the additional friction made Dave’s eyes glaze over. He began to buck wildly against John, biting his lip so hard it hurt. He was so close, and suddenly his toes curled and his back arched and he spilled across John’s stomach with a cry he didn’t even know he could make. His orgasm seemed to push John over the edge as well, because he felt a spattering of something warm against his chest.

Dave collapsed into John in a sticky, sweating heap. His hair fell into his face, and John reached up and brushed it out of his eyes languidly. The smile on his face was so honest and genuine that Dave felt almost more vulnerable than he had when he was nakedly facing John in the kitchen.

“Wow,” Dave said, shaking his head slightly. 

“Wow is right,” John agreed, laughing softly. “Where did that even come from?”

“Well you’re the one who took my towel,” Dave smirked. He bent down and kissed the tip of John’s nose. 

“Yeah, but that was just gonna be a dumb prank, I didn’t think you’d pin me against a wall and get all up in my, uh, business,” John laughed, blushing again. “Not that I minded or anything,” he added hastily.

Dave glanced at the clock. Seven fifteen. He groaned.

“What’s wrong?” John asked, his brows furrowing.

“I still gotta get cleaned up, do my hair, eat breakfast, pack up my shit, and walk to campus for class. There’s no way I’ll make it in time,” Dave sighed. “Goddammit, Egbert, why you gotta be so fucking cute right now and make me not wanna get out of this bed?”

John giggled a little bit. “What class do you have?”

“History or some shit,” Dave waved it off.

“Skip it. Stay with me. I’m making pancakes,” John wheedled. Dave considered this. He hadn’t missed a class yet, but he could easily get notes from someone. He grinned and kissed John very lightly. 

“We’d better clean up, though,” Dave commented, gesturing at his and John’s torsos. John’s smile was a little embarrassed, but Dave would be lying to himself if he didn’t think that John looked incredibly hot, leaning back on his elbows with his just-fucked hair and glasses askew and covered in come. 

Twenty minutes later, Dave had put the finishing touches on his hair and slid into a chair at the kitchen table. The smell of pancakes wafted through the apartment, and Dave’s stomach was growling. John had tied an appropriately ironic ruffly apron around his waist, and was humming something that sounded suspiciously like “How Do I Live” as he bustled around the kitchen. He finally carried a steaming plate over to Dave. Dave was about to dig in when he realized what was sitting on his plate.

John had made him dick-shaped pancakes.

“You absolute unbelievable _dork_ ,” he laughed. “I’m not even sure I can eat these. They’re such a goddamn masterpiece.” He took a drink from the glass of water he’d poured himself.

“Hey, I thought after this morning you might be up to the idea of eating dick,” John grinned nonchalantly. Dave almost spat water all over the table.

“You made these fucking pancakes specifically so you could make that pun, didn’t you?” Dave asked once he’d regained his bearings.

“I am not even a little bit ashamed,” John grinned.

Dave Strider decided that mornings weren’t so bad. Not when he had dick-shaped pancakes and John Egbert smiling shyly at him when he thought Dave wasn’t looking. Dave Strider was officially a fan of mornings.


End file.
